


torment

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hallucination Amber Volakis, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Insomnia, Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Ideation, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House can't sleep while Amber reminds him of where he should be.





	torment

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [мучительное](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752581) by [syn_filifjonky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syn_filifjonky/pseuds/syn_filifjonky)



> for genprompt-bingo w/ the square "sleeplessness / insomnia"; hc-bingo with the square "survivor's guilt" and 15woes with the prompt "under your skin". 
> 
> enjoy!

There's a moment— before dawn, well past midnight, where Amber decides to take it up on him. He's well-aware she's a part of his subconscious, how she's a manifestation of everything, anything wrong with him, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it in the least. 

Amber keeps herself on the nightstand, swinging her legs up and down, smiling at him mockingly as he attempts to rest. He wants to sleep oh so badly, he does, to not have to be haunted with Amber, with the fact his subconscious is the woman he couldn't save. The love of Wilson's life. 

"You wish you were the one who died," she tells him. 

He hisses and covers his ears with the pillow, but her voice is still crystal clear; "Because  _ you  _ deserve to die. Pretty, youthful, abled women don't."

"Shut up," he hisses. 

"You wish you had stayed in the bus."

"Shut up!" he yells, straightening up to look at her. 

Amber tilts her head and smiles at him wolfishly. "No," she says, without batting an eye. "If karma existed, if fate existed, if divine retribution existed, well, you wouldn't be alive right now."

"Shut up," he says quietly. 

"If you weren't alive right now, Wilson would still be happy. Wilson wouldn't be grieving. He would be— he would be celebrating, almost, wouldn't he?"

"I've been his friend for fifteen years!" he argues, voice cracking. 

"And that wouldn't matter!" she exclaims, standing up, taller than she was once upon a time. "Because you're a fucking pest!"

"I'm not—!"

"Oh, then why does Wilson get in a screaming match with you whenever possible? Just for funsies? You're a fucking pest, Gregory, and your father knew it!"

House's face twists. "Don't you bring my father into this—"

"I'm your subconscious, you ass," she hisses out, grabbing him by his hair in a manner that doesn't help him in not thinking about his father. "I  _ will  _ bring our father into this."

His lip trembles, and he's quite nauseous. He hasn't had a blink of sleep in the last few days because Amber has been tormenting him and he just wants to rest. He wants to tell his misery to Wilson, he wants some sleep meds, he wants Amber to be out, out of his head, because this is just the sleeplessness. There is nothing more going on.

“I’m not a pest,” he says, trying to sound calm as much as his voice wavers.

“You are,” Amber tells him, pressing a disdainful kiss to his scalp. Again, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about his father very much. “Everyone hates you, Gregory. Cuddy, Wilson, Foreman, Thirteen, Chase, Cameron, Taub—” Her voice gets lower, downright cruel. “Kutner hated you too.”

House makes the most wretched sound, tears threatening to slide down his cheeks. “Kutner didn’t hate me,” he argues weakly.

“How do you know?” she asks, tilting her head. “All he showed of himself was a lie. He killed himself and you can’t figure out why.”

He grits his teeth. “Amber—” he nearly begs.

“If I was alive— if Kutner was alive, the world would be a better place.”

“Amber!” he exclaims.

“If we were alive, and you weren’t, it would all make more sense, wouldn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve never believed in- in fate—”

“You do. Oh, you do. You wish you were the one dead, that Wilson was still happy, that Wilson was still happy and in love.”

“He would’ve grieved me too,” he argues.

“You’re a pest,” she reminds him lowly.

House gives up on the argument as Amber continues droning on and on about his worthlessness, about how no one would’ve grieved him. He covers his ears with his pillow uselessly; he attempts to sleep uselessly.


End file.
